Runaway Heart (A Game of Hearts #2) (21 page)

DESCRIBING THE ENGLISH COUNTRYSIDE WAS like trying to describe a perfect night sky. There weren’t enough words in the English language to depict its infinite beauty. The way the hills rolled like the waves in the sea. Or how the powdered-sugar landscape sparkled like an ocean of diamonds under the misty rays of the morning sun.

It was crazy to see all of it through the clear panes of glass from inside the cab Ed hailed us. Ludicrous to think I was sitting next to him viewing all of it, all the while not feeling one bit out of place. Not thinking about school or the city life, or even about the sponsorship I may have secured yesterday.

There was only him and me.

His hand on my leg, running lazy fingers up and down the material of my pants. His gaze resting on me every so often, making me excruciatingly aware of the aching need to close the distance between us. And his words that still lingered in my head from the night before, when he decided he couldn’t take a second more of waiting and took me on the bathroom counter as the steam from my shower billowed around us in clouds.

“I don’t think I can let you go again, love.”

Ten words that felt like water in my lungs. Like a plastic bag over my head.

Because I didn’t know how I was going to let him go either.

All I knew was that I had to.

“AUNT DELLA!” ED SAID AS soon as we rolled into the curved driveway outside her country manor.

I could almost see him as a kid with his hand already on the door handle, ready to open as soon as the car stopped. Excitement oozed off him, filling the backseat of the cab.

Della already had her arms open in welcome with a large smile stretching the pale, aged skin of her face. She was a stately woman, with auburn hair swept up into a conformed bun atop her head. Her pearly blue eyes were encased in deep-set wrinkles that fit the regal look to her. She wore an emerald-green skirt suit that contrasted nicely with the color of her hair.

I stood a few feet back, watching the way she and Ed conversed. The way she rubbed her hand in a motherly way down his arm. The way he bounced from foot to foot like an eager child wanting to spill how his day was.

There was love there. The kind I’d only seen when I stayed with Maggie, or in the movies. The kind of love I’d unknowingly searched for my whole life.

It only took a second for her eyes to slip past Ed to me. “Don’t be shy, lass,” she said as she opened her arms to me.

I wandered my way to her, my heart beating as fast as a rabbit in my throat, and then accepted her hug, easing into it more quickly than I ever had with anyone before. She held me tight, but there was a softness to her hug. A strength that radiated safety. A tenderness that said so many things about her without even knowing her.

“Ed told me about the sport ye’re in and how ye won the world cup. How exciting!” she said as she let go.

“Yeah,” I said, stepping back out of the hug. My hands went straight for my pockets.

“I knew I saw a fighter’s spirit in ye the other night.”

The other night.

It was a dark cloud I couldn’t escape. An injustice I felt I could never properly remedy. Because there would always be an “
other
” night. There’d always be a victim to someone’s abuse. A person in the world without the help they needed to get away.

And the anger inside me felt as dangerous as an exposed wire. Felt like a tumor I couldn’t get rid of.

“How is she?” I asked, biting the side of my lip. Wishing I was more like Della. More proactive when it came to putting an end to the violence when I could.

“Why don’t ye come in and see her for yourself?” Della said with a warm, inviting grin.

We followed her up the cobble pathway to the grand front door, and then through the foyer sprinkled with dated paintings of faces and landscapes that gave an otherworld feeling to the home.

“Your house is so beautiful,” I remarked, unable to process my thoughts. This was like a home out of a magazine or a movie. Not a place I’d thought I’d ever have the pleasure of viewing. “I could only dream of living someplace like this. But then again, decorating and me go about as well together as dogs and cats.”

“Thank you, deary,” she said with a small laugh as we passed through kitchen. “But achieving the details come with time. Sort of like a relationship. Ye have to commit to it. Put the work in to bring out the true beauty.”

“A relationship,” I repeated to myself as she guided us down a long, wide hall, and then directed us into a library.

There she was, sitting in the far corner, nestled in a small reading nook.

The moment we entered the room, she closed her book and was on her feet, the bruise on her face having turned a deep mustard yellow and eggplant purple color.

“Hi,” she said, meeting us across the room.

“How are you?” My nerves felt like guitar strings being plucked.

“Better,” she said with a small shrug.

“Why don’t ye have a seat, and you and Annabel can get to know one another?” Della said, pointing to the wing-backed, purple suede couch.

I followed Annabel’s lead and took a seat.

“I made biscuits and tea. Ed, be a good lad and come help me.”

He smiled at her. “Sure.”

And then they were gone.

“So,” I said, turning back to Annabel. “You look worlds better.”

“I feel it,” she said with a sincere smile. “Della is amazing. This place…” She died off, looking around the room. “This is the place a person like me needs to find in order to pick up the pieces.”

“You really believe that?” I asked. Not in a condescending way, but in an honest, inquisitive way.

She nodded. “I do. He won’t find me here. And it’s so quiet. So peaceful. And Della… she has a way with her words. A way that sort of explains everything without saying much. It’s been two days since I’ve seen Robert and, in that time, I begun to realize he was the crutch. Not me.”

I laid a hand on hers. “I’m so glad to hear that.” I wished my mother could hear this. Wished she could have the courage this woman did.

Wished she could meet Della.

“Here we are,” Della said as she and Ed entered the room carrying trays filled with delicious smells. “Do you prefer sugar, cream, or lemon for your tea?” Della asked me as she poured the warm broth into a small, floral-patterned cup.

“Lemon, please,” I said, taking the cup from her a second later.

“Annabel?”

“I’m good. But thank ye, Della,” she said, grinning at her.

“How about you, Ed? Still take lemon and sugar?”

“The best of both worlds,” he crooned, taking a seat in the chair across from us.

We sat like that for a while, talking about many different things. About life. About love. About Ed as a child. And when the biscuits were gone and the tea was cold, Della sent Ed off to collect his jacket and asked me if I wanted to take a walk with her while Annabel went to rest.

I agreed of course, feeling more at home than I think I’d ever felt in my life.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ed so smitten. Not even with that ghastly Monica girl he fancied himself in love with,” Della said as she led me away from the house toward the greenhouse out back.

“He’s really great,” I admitted, feeling that sinking feeling again.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. “The two of ye remind me of Elliot and me when we first met,” she said as we took a seat on a bench inside the greenhouse.

“How so?” I asked, tucking my hands under my legs.

“He found me at my worst and, despite it all, he still fell in love with me.” She closed her eyes, turning her face toward the sunlight filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “When someone can see ye at your worst, and still want all of ye… that’s not something to pass up on.”

Ed saw me at my worst. Watched me unravel like a ball of yarn as I faced my demons with only a handful of tears to defend myself. And, yet, he still wanted me. Still pulled me in as if I were the only air he could breathe.

It was as if he had always belonged by my side, and that was a thought I knew I shouldn’t be thinking.

“What do you mean by your worst?” I asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from Ed and how wonderful he was. Away from the feelings I felt for him that began with the word
in
and ended with the word
love
.

“I’m sure Ed has mentioned it to ye, but I was married before Elliot. Married to the very devil himself. His name was Amos, and he had a heavy hand.

“I was seventeen when we first married. Too young to know if it was real or not. Or, maybe I was too eager to get out from under my parents. We made a life for ourselves. Bought a tiny cottage shortly after Amos made his first small business investment. Everything was good until he started taking long business trips.

“I knew he was cheating. I let it slide for a while, until one day I had enough. That was the first time he struck me. It took me quite by surprise and I lost my footing, fell backward over a dining room chair, and ended up with a broken collarbone.” Her hand went to the spot, rubbing a wound that healed long ago, but time would always remember.

“Why didn’t you leave?” I asked, thinking about all the times my mother had been struck and how she’d stay.

“At first?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at me as she clasped her hands. The corner of her eyes crinkled together as she looked deep into mine. “I tripped. Yes, he’d shoved me, but I’d pushed him too. Not physically, mind. I used the only weapon I had. My anger. I railed at him, wanting answers. Demanding he keep the vows he made to me. He shouted back, not wanting to hear about his affairs spoken at him so coldly. I wanted to be heard. Wanted to be cherished. In the end, we were an explosion of shattered trust. Broken promises. I raged and he… well, he snapped.

“After that, he apologized. He even cried. I held him through it. Marriage is seldom easy, and I thought we’d maybe just hit one of those bumps in the road.” She made a slight noise, a humming in her throat before continuing, “After my injury healed and everything settled, or so I’d thought, he went from doting husband to a raging maniac. He’d gotten away with it once, you see. And I allowed him to continue getting away with it.

“I learned the hard way that abusive people will do and say whatever they need to you each and every time. It’s a sickness, really. And the victim isn’t the only one who suffers. The family and friends around ye, watching ye go through it, they take each hit with ye too.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak through the past blocking my throat with all the memories I wished I could scrub from my mind.

“But to answer your question, in the end, I realized I only stayed out of loyalty. When we speak those vows, they’re meant to be sacred. They bond ye to another,” she said, staring off into the field of potted flowers. “It’s not easy when ye love the person who’s hurting ye. Even amongst the bad that had come, there were still those moments when it was just him and me, and there wasn’t hurt or anger there, and those moments are what I clutched onto when he’d take a fist to me.

“It wasn’t until he went after my sister that I realized it had to stop. That he was never going to be the man I thought I married.”

Gallons of acid slid through my veins.

“I just don’t understand it. Why do men flip like that? Why do they build you up, only to tear you back down? My father did that to my mother. Still does it,” I said, my eyes beginning to sear.

She grabbed my hand and held it, clutching it tightly. “Not all men do that, love. My Amos. Your father. They are just one side of the coin. They are the lemon hearts. The ones who are too sour to love.”

“And the other side?” I asked, seeing Ed’s face in my mind.

She smiled knowingly at me. “I think ye’ve recently seen the other side,” she said, patting my hand.

She was right. Ed was the other side. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I knew he was pure. Good. Too good for me. And just like him, I didn’t know how I was going to leave him. How I was ever going to be straight again.

Della and I sat there for a little while longer as she explained how she overcame Amos and created the Battered Women Foundation with the help of her family and Elliot. She told me about the many women like Annabel who had come and gone, and how she checked in on them from time to time to make sure they were still going strong.